


OF Love and Levitation

by alexcat



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Canon Divergence - Avengers: Endgame (Movie), Community: avengerkink, Fluff and Smut, Multi, Post-Avengers: Endgame (Movie), Prompt Fill
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-08
Updated: 2019-08-08
Packaged: 2020-08-13 01:22:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,096
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20165800
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alexcat/pseuds/alexcat
Summary: A Love Story about two men and a cloak.  The cloak tells his side of the story.





	OF Love and Levitation

**Author's Note:**

> This is the prompt: The Cloak ships Stephen & Other and likes to watch and cuddle. I chose Steve for the other.

The Cloak of Levitation was in love with Dr. Stephen Strange. At least, it was in love in the way a sentient animate object can be. What this amounted to was that it protected him as much as it could – that was its job, after all – and it wrapped itself around him to cuddle him – sort of its job, too. It also wanted him to have a real person to love and cuddle. The cloak liked, no, it loved to watch. And maybe cuddle both of them as well. Maybe it could love two people.

The problem was that most often, Strange had no actual physical contact with other people. It watched when he brought pleasure to himself, and sometimes wrapped itself around him after, but something was missing. Strange was lonely. 

The Cloak suspected that his master was never a demonstrative man at any time, but it did seem that contact with another flesh body would be the optimum.

Cloak liked Wong, but detected no desire on either man’s part for anything more intimate than their friendship. 

The man they called Rogers came by sometimes. He was very sad the first time he came. His Master offered him tea and they talked of the man in the metal suit, the one who had died at the Avengers Headquarters battle. It would seem that he had been loved by Rogers and Rogers mourned him. 

Cloak knew there was more than just tea and sympathy between them, but he knew that humans often had to work through the barriers in their own minds, before they could see what was right in front of them. 

He liked Rogers, wanted to wrap himself around Rogers, too. Maybe his Master would see the wisdom of this soon as well. 

*

Steve Rogers was having similar thoughts though they weren’t quite as clear as the Cloak’s thoughts were. 

Strange made him – for lack of a better word – feel a longing. He longed for the peace that Strange seemed to grasp so easily. He longed for his heart to stop aching so much. And if he thought about it for any length of time, he realized he longed for warmth, for a human touch. Perhaps Strange’s touch. 

When he came close to these thoughts, he simply turned them off and ran or punched his old faithful punching bags. He hated to admit that it was getting harder to deny his own loneliness and pain over Tony’s loss. He still ignored the fact that his body still felt desire and need. He refused to acknowledge any sexual needs at all. It seemed disloyal though he and Stark had only had one encounter since Siberia and it was the day before he died. 

Maybe he should stop going to the Sanctum, stop seeing Strange. 

Maybe not. 

*

Stephen Strange knew there was something happening around him, something more than he could see. His senses were strong. He was also quite observant. 

Of all the sorcery he had encountered, the Cloak was one thing that was quite mysterious still. It had chosen him the day he set foot in the Sanctum, an object imbued with magic of its own. 

It acted almost like a pet sometimes. Many mornings he woke to find it wrapped around him. Sometimes, it even seemed to pet him, touching his hair or his face gently. 

He had also noticed that every time Rogers came by, it wrapped itself around him and would not leave. He even thought he saw it reach out and touch Rogers once or twice as he was getting ready to leave. Perhaps it was just the wind. 

And that thought brought him to Rogers again. 

He was becoming fond of the Supersoldier. They talked about Stark and he realized early on that Rogers and Stark had been lovers, lovers separated for a long time, but still in love. He understood. He had become fond of Stark quickly. Turned out that the spoiled rich boy was a hell of a man. 

So was Rogers. 

He wanted Rogers, wanted him in his bed and had from the moment he’d opened the door to him. 

*

Strange called Rogers on Friday evening. 

“Dinner here? Chinese takeout?” He found himself hoping Steve would say yes. 

“Sounds good. Order it and give me the address and I’ll pick it up on my way over. Give me about an hour. I just got out of the gym, sparring with Sam and Bucky and I need a shower. I’ll call you when I’m ready.” 

Steve hung up. 

Strange cleaned up a little and rummaged for something to drink. He found some nice oolong tea and nabbed Wong’s good teapot and cups. 

‘You’re acting like a kid on a first date,’ he told himself as he looked in the mirror, then he decided to make up his bed and put his laundry in the closet. 

The Chinese food was spicy and delicious. 

“I’m glad you called. Sam and Bucky were making those ‘poor Steve’ sounds that usually end in me going to some horrid war movie with the two of them. I feel like a third wheel in their bromance.”

Strange laughed. It was funny when Steve used modern terms. It was even funnier when he slipped and called women ‘dames’ or lapsed into his native Brooklyn accent. Strange, though born in NYC, too, did not have one of its more colorful accents. He suspected no one knew Rogers still had one either. 

“I take it you don’t want to see a war movie then?” 

“Do _you_ like doctor shows?” Steve asked with a grin. 

“God, no! They’re so unreal and so ridiculous.”

They settled on a Sherlock Holmes movie. The main actor looked a little like Tony Stark. It was late when the movie was done and Strange was tempted to ask Steve to stay, even if to sleep on the sofa. 

He walked Steve to the door. He could have sworn that the cloak pointed at Steve from where it hung in the corner. 

“I guess I better make sure Sam and Buck don’t decide to do stunts and trash the place.”

“I enjoy your visits, Rogers. This is a big, old place for me to rattle around in, even when Wong is home. I’m glad of the company.” 

“Where is Wong?” Wong usually kept to himself when Steve was there, but he did notice the other man being around usually. 

“He’s gone to confer with the Hong Kong Sanctum for a few days and visit some old friends as well. He’ll be back in about a week.”

Steve looked like he might say something then didn’t. Just as he started out the door, Stephen touched his arm and Steve turned back. Strange stepped close and touched his lips ever so slightly to Steve’s. For a moment, Steve didn’t move then he kissed Stephen back, his own kiss no deeper than Stephen’s. 

When they parted, Strange whispered, “Next time, stay with me.” 

Steve nodded and was gone.

*

The cloak was happy. He flew to Stephen as soon as Rogers left and threw himself around his Master. Strange sat on the sofa and drank the rest of his tea before going to bed. The Cloak hung close by as he slept. 

*

Steve didn’t sleep at all. He almost wished he’d pushed back into the house and carried Strange to his bedroom. He touched his lips several times. The kiss had been unexpected, but he’d liked it. A lot. Too much maybe. 

The evidence of how much was what kept him from going to sleep. Every time he tried, the tightness in his groin kept him from relaxing. He gave up finally and slipped his hand inside his sweats. It was Strange’s name he moaned when he finished.

He would say yes if Strange asked. 

Strange called him the next morning. “Did you sleep?” 

“Not really.” 

“I’d say I’m sorry but I’m not. Since the battle, I haven’t wanted to be around much of anyone, but you, I want to be around.”

“I have nothing to offer you but a broken warrior, Stephen.”

“I know. I – I am as broken as you. I made him suffer when I gave the stone to Thanos, but it was the only way.” They both knew he was talking about Stark.

“He knew. He always knew you did what you had to. I think he always knew what he’d have to do, too.” 

“Come over. I need – we can talk.” 

*

The Cloak felt the excitement in Strange. His Master would take the soldier to his bed. He would take care of them. It was his job, his desire.

*

Stephen met Steve as he came up the steps to the front door. 

He led him inside and pushed him against the door as soon as he’d closed it. This kiss was not gentle or sweet. Their mouths met almost violently, teeth touching until they adjusted their kissing. Tongues touched, caressed, as they pressed their bodies together, shoulder to shoulder, hip to hip. 

“I thought about you all night,” Strange murmured as his gloved hands wandered over Steve’s shoulders and wound around to the back of his neck to pull him close for another kiss. 

Neither of them saw the Cloak hanging near the wall as if it were on a coat tree. 

They made their way to Strange’s bed. It was the narrow bed of a monk. That didn’t matter at all right now. They’d have crawled in one another’s skin if they’d figured out a way to do it. They fell onto the bed in one another’s arms. 

As he kissed Steve, Stephen pulled Steve’s shirt out of his trousers.

“Touch me with your hands,” Steve said as he reached for Stephen’s gloves. 

“They’re horribly scarred and they tremble,” Strange warned as he held his hands out for Steve to remove the black gloves. 

Steve slipped the left one off and put it on the small table by the bed. He held the hand to his lips and kissed it, then turned his attention to the other one. He removed the second glove just as gently and when both hands were bare, he brought them to his mouth and kissed them both then placed them on either side of his face. 

“Your scars are part of why you are a good man, Stephen, just as Stark’s were. We all have scars, just not all of them are visible.” He moved the hands down and under his shirt to touch his skin. He unbuttoned his shirt as Strange caressed his chest and his belly. Strange unbuckled his belt with his shaking hands and then unbuttoned and unzipped him. He opened the fly and saw the damp spot where Steve’s cock had wet his boxers. He pulled him through the opening in his underwear and touched him with those scarred hands. 

“Oh God,” Steve whispered as Strange kissed him again. 

*

If the Cloak had the ability to join them, it might have. It knew that its master was feeling pleasure from the sounds he made and the way the other man touched his hidden parts. They both were quite beautiful. The Cloak could not remember feeling this way about the masters who came before Stephen Strange. 

It felt what might have been longing when his master and his lover were naked and became enjoined. Their movements were rhythmic and strange to the Cloak but they both made such sounds that it knew they were not coming to harm at all. Rather the opposite, it seemed as they said sweet words to one another and got still. 

The Cloak knew it was time for it to show its love to his master and his beautiful companion. 

Stephen had turned off the light and wrapped his arms around his lover. Very soon, they both were quiet and their breathing became even. The Cloak floated over to the bed and after a moment that would have looked like it was watching them, settled around them both, making sure they were sheltered from the cold of the drafty old room. 

*

Strange was just dozing when the Cloak joined them and covered them. He reached one hand out from beneath and patted the cloak. 

“Good night, my friend.” 

One of the collar points touched his face gently and then lay still. 

*

If the Cloak could have spoken, it might have simply sighed. Perhaps it would join them next time before they slept. Perhaps it would make their pleasure in one another even better. It could levitate, after all.

**Author's Note:**

> My [**Tumblr**](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/alexcat45).


End file.
